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“What?” Finley asks.

I look around Mitchell's library.

At the books. At the women sitting around his table. At the evidence of a life the public never sees.

“I think there's a human being behind the image that is Mitchell Knight.”

Dani snorts. “Breaking news.”

I laugh.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“The world knows the billionaire. The genius. The recluse. The media mogul. The eccentric asshole who buys companies and rugby teams and refuses interviews.”

I pause.

“But who is he? Who is Mitchell Knight really?”

The question feels different when I say it now. More personal.

“What does he love? What scares him? Why rugby? Why this team? Why Consequence? Why pour tens of millions into something that may never repay him financially? Why does a man who can have practically anything choose this?”

My gaze moves around the table.

“And why does he care so much about all of you?”

Nobody speaks.

“That might be the story.”

Not the scandal. Not the money.

The man.

The human story behind someone the world has reduced to a bank account and a headline.

And that's when the really uncomfortable realization hits me.

Yes, I want to find that story because people deserve the truth.

But that's not the only reason anymore.

I want to find it because I want them to see what I'm beginning to see.

Him.

Not his billions. Not Knight Global.

Not the intimidating asshole who can buy a media company because one of its reporters pissed him off.

Just him.

Mitchell.

The man who remembered my favorite fucking hot dog from an interview I gave years ago.